Unravelled
by Elven Ink
Summary: **COMPLETE** Gabriel decides enough is enough. Aziraphale had his chance to choose a side. Now he's going to get back in line. Warning: Character death. Counterpart to 'Denial'.


**AN: This is a counterpart to 'Denial', and like it, it is inspired by the ever-wonderful speremint's amazing them out on Twitter or Tumblr!**

**WARNINGS: Extreme angst, character death, possession, heartbreak, angsty angst, angst. Personally, I think this one is more angsty than 'Denial' was.**

* * *

"Gabriel. We need to discuss Aziraphale."

There were many things the Archangel Gabriel would like to discuss. A certain Principality with a penchant for sushi and demons was not among those things. Jaw set, violet eyes turned to pin Michael beneath a restrained glower. She was right, of course — Heaven couldn't exactly let a rogue angel run amuck for too long. Especially not one of Aziraphale's rather _lacking_ calibre. It was embarrassing if nothing else, and it set a poor example to the other angels. Any one of them might get the ridiculous notion in their heads that if someone as incompetent as _Aziraphale _could get away with it, why couldn't they?

Michael's steely eyes met Gabriel's without recoil, and she continued: "He's been pandered to long enough. If he decides to side with the enemy..."

"You think even Hell would want Aziraphale on their side?" Gabriel scoffed, eyebrow raising.

"No. But his flaming _sword_..." Michael said pointedly, head tilting forward in a slight nod. "I think Prince Lucifer would be quite keen to claim it."

That brought a chilling thought to the Archangel's mind. Lucifer, one of the Princes of Hell...yes, the Lightbringer himself might very well take a fancy to the flaming sword the angel of the eastern gate had. Somewhere.

"Look, normally? I'd just fell the guy. Take his wings, his sword, kick him down the basement. But with Aziraphale?" Gabriel shrugged, smirk still curling his lips. "The guy would hate it to start with, but there's a certain demon waiting to catch him with open arms. Hardly a punishment in the long run, and I am _not _giving Crowley a gift-wrapped present. So, what do you want me to do, Michael? Destroy him? Destroying an angel needs clearance _way _above ours."

Michael lifted her chin up, looking down her nose at the other Archangel; an impressive feat, given their height difference.

"Aziraphale was told to choose a side. He hasn't. Maybe it's time we removed the option."

Gabriel's hands clasped at his front, and he gave a heavy sigh through his nostrils. Oh, it wasn't out of any sort of sadness or grief at what Michael implied; it was simply a lot of _effort_. Possession was a skill held by both angels and demons, but it wasn't one angels held in high regard. In fact, the ability had been downplayed so much in recent centuries that some angels believed only demons could do so.

Unwinding his hands, Gabriel shrugged again.

"Alright. Fine. He's had his fun, war's upon us."

As he spoke, four wings of sparkling amethyst unfurled from Gabriel's back. "Time for him to come home."

* * *

"We're on _our side_."

"There is no _our side!_ Not anymore!"

Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley would quite believe their ears as the angel spoke, voice thick with anguish. But both knew that Aziraphale would hold nothing above his drive to _do the right thing_. Right now, that was to save this world that had been more a home to Aziraphale than Heaven had ever felt. If fighting to save it meant never seeing Crowley again… "It...It's over!"

Crowley paused. Aziraphale could hardly keep looking at him.

"Alright. Fine," the demon huffed, turning on his heel with little more than a grunt of irritation, and storming off from the band stand. Tears welled in Aziraphale's eyes, sadness choking his throat and nose, and he looked away sharply.

And then it hit him. A staggering, sharp burst of agony struck squarely in Aziraphale's chest so suddenly as to make him gasp audibly, a hand coming up to grasp at the front of his shirt over his heart.

_Oh no…_

It was not merely a pain of the physical body that ailed Aziraphale. No, this was an injury rather exclusive to angel stock. It coursed through his true self, the energy that made him an angel, and right now, it was shattering him like glass ground underfoot.

Aziraphale swayed then collapsed to his knees. The world around him appeared to bleed of its colour, vibrancy falling away, greying and dulling. He didn't notice Crowley had returned to his side in a rush until a hand came to his shoulder to steady him.

"Angel? No...no no no, you can't have—oh _heaven_, Aziraphale, what have you done?" Crowley half-scolded him, though disbelief echoed in his words.

"I didn't...I didn't know..." Aziraphale muttered, lying through his teeth, of course. He was growing light-headed, his physical body feeling strangely numb as his essence wanted nothing more than to run away and hide. Akin to a human's fight-or-flight instinct, if you will, the angelic form would attempt to retreat and heal in the event of a grievous injury...such as **heartbreak**.

"Liar..." Crowley grumbled, shifting to kneel in front of Aziraphale and putting both hands either side of the angel's face. He tilted Aziraphale's head so he was looking at him, a little unfocused, but watching all the same. "Seriously? You'd...you'd break your heart to save this world? To defy the forces of Heaven and Hell? Aziraphale, this is...this is madness! You'll get yourself destroyed, can't you see that? We can't stop this war! We _have_ to go. Bloody heaven..._me_ of all people...how'd you managed to let yourself fall in love with _me_, angel?"

"Because you're...nice to me…" Aziraphale's slurring reply arrived through a clumsy smile. Crowley returning to his side had provided something of a balm to his heartbreak, enough to restore a little of his energy and light.

"Your bar is set too low if you think I'm nice," Crowley replied sullenly.

"I—"

A surge of energy hurtled through Aziraphale's mind then, but it was not his own. It was blindingly bright, and caught the angel off-guard entirely. Between his moment of weakness in his heartbreak and his struggle to focus on Crowley, Aziraphale had neglected to notice Gabriel's arrival in the physical world. Now, it was too late. Though Aziraphale didn't move at all, internally he was thrown back into the darkest, coldest corners of his own mind and shackled there.

_Time's up, Aziraphale, _Gabriel smiled at him, before coiling violet essence burrowed into Aziraphale's limbs and mind, wrenching control away from the Principality…

In reality, Aziraphale did little more than blink, a light purple ring flashing for but a moment in his eyes.

Then, he smiled softly at Crowley.

"—don't think so," Gabriel finished Aziraphale's sentence with ease. "But maybe...maybe you're right. Maybe we _should _leave."

Crowley lent back a little where he was crouched. His brow furrowed at Aziraphale's sudden change in tune.

"What...really?"

"Yes. I can't stop a war on my own. Maybe...it isn't the right thing to do after all," Gabriel said, flicking through Aziraphale's thoughts and memories with ease to conjure reasonable discourse with the demon. Something believable. Something gullible. Behind him, he felt Aziraphale twisting and thrashing against his confines.

'_Careful now...wouldn't wanna break anything in here_,' Gabriel warned him, plucking a memory of the angel and demon from the many within Aziraphale's mind. '_Pretty delicate things, memories. Just sit tight till I'm done, then we can get you home!_' He smiled over his shoulder at Aziraphale, before tossing the memory carelessly to the floor where it shattered like glass. Aziraphale gave a cry, though the moment the memory shattered he could not recall why it pained him to lose it…

Meanwhile, his exchange in the physical world went much more smoothly. Crowley was quite keen to leave, much more so now that he knew this angel had done this impossible. He'd fallen in love with Crowley, and that meant — well, it meant his unspoken feelings were reciprocated after all. The demon had never thought to tell Aziraphale, for was he not unlovable by default of being a demon? Apparently not, and that only gave Crowley another reason to run away with Aziraphale.

"Maybe not. I mean, it's the Great Plan, isn't it? And...well, aren't you tired of fighting? For Heaven? They don't even care about you, Aziraphale. Hell certainly doesn't care about me. Isn't it the right thing to do to...well, go somewhere else? If we care about each other, it makes sense!" Crowley exclaimed, helping the shaky angel up to his feet. As he did so, he allowed his black-feathered wings to appear behind him — what did it matter who saw? The world was ending, and _they _were leaving.

Gabriel smiled through Aziraphale's lips, letting his white wings stretch out behind him too. They felt rather measly compared to the Archangel's own dazzling lilac wings.

"It makes sense," he agreed, still smiling. Crowley beamed, and Gabriel almost felt guilty that Aziraphale wouldn't be able to see the demon happy for once. It must have been a rarity, with only Aziraphale for company.

"I know just the place too, you're gonna love it angel. I helped build it, it's really beautiful. Here, you must still be exhausted from...from all that before so...let me take us there. I won't go too fast, I promise," he stammered, drawing an arm around Aziraphale's back to pull him closer.

Gabriel felt his lip curl in disgust, though he didn't let it reflect on his possessed puppet's face. After all, this was a perfect moment.

He could sever Aziraphale's connection here and now. He'd be left with only Heaven to run back to.

"Oh _Crowley_. Before we go, you should know...it's not _you_..." Gabriel spoke, letting Aziraphale's arms snake around Crowley's back as well, bringing the pair into an embrace. Behind the demon, a dagger of holy light formed silently in Aziraphale's hand at Gabriel's command, and the Archangel's voice purred from between Aziraphale's lips "...it's _**me**_."

* * *

Inside his mindscape, Aziraphale howled in fear, begging, _pleading _for Gabriel to let Crowley go. The angel thrashed and writhed, wings beating and striking out violently as he tried desperately to break free of the Archangel's possession. As he did so, memories and thoughts crashed and shattered around him, knocked and broken by Aziraphale's own struggle. He didn't care. To hell with it all, to hell if he forgot. His memories were treasures, yes, one of the few things in his existence that brought him comfort…

...but they weren't as important as Crowley. In fact, _that_ memory was held in Aziraphale's arms, a small crystal of a thought as he forsook the rest in his hysteric efforts to get free. The only memory he kept close and protected, the most important things that Aziraphale would not risk.

It was the memory of Crowley's name.

After all...Crowley had picked it for himself. Aziraphale _couldn't _forget that. But he would pay with everything else he had to get loose of Gabriel's possession. Memories of books, of music, of lunches at the Ritz and theatre with his closest friend. Of broken churches and demonic miracles...smashed to the floor, forgotten…

Crowley rescuing him on so many occasions...now shards of glass, forgotten…

Aziraphale rescuing Crowley in turn...broken to bits by fevered wingbeats, gone...

His own name…cast to the ground to fracture into dust, erased...

Aziraphale let them all smash to the floor beneath him as he writhed and tried so desperately to break free with every ounce of his being.

'_Seriously? How far are you going to go for a fucking __**demon **__and a mud ball?_' Gabriel sneered in his mind as he watched Aziraphale breaking his own mind apart in an attempt to get free of him. '_You always were pathetic...'_

* * *

Crowley realised too late. A flash of light and he saw Aziraphale's eyes shining brilliant violet, a cold smirk pulling the corners of his lips, runes dancing in a halo over his head.

_Gabriel_.

Crowley's lips parted; he'd meant to call out Aziraphale's name, but the holy blade that buried between his shoulder blades robbed him of the word and left him with nothing but a gasp. Wide-eyed, he could only watch as his own body grew clammy and numb in equal parts and Aziraphale's eyes returned to their usual blue, the runes dissipating from around his head.

_Gabriel...even you wouldn't…surely..._Crowley thought in horror.

Aziraphale blinked, his expression slack for a heartbeat as he looked at the scene before him. Crowley was in his arms, his weight falling forward, knees buckling...and...in his own hand…

The holy blade splintered and faded from existence, leaving behind a burning wound deep through Crowley's back.

"Crowley?" Aziraphale asked, confused, the recent memory of Gabriel's attack on the demon already broken along with centuries more that lay in pieces in the angel's mind. He had not managed to wrench control back from the Archangel...but Gabriel had been cruel enough to let Aziraphale return in time to see Crowley die by his own hand.

The embraced pair fell, Aziraphale falling to his knees and catching Crowley's crumpled weight in his arms. He cradled the demon close, panic surging into his heart and voice: "_Crowley!_"

"It...it's'alright...angel..."

"No! No no, I didn't...I didn't mean...I don't...I don't remember—!"

Miracle after miracle formed in Aziraphale's hand, but none could repair the damage of cursed flesh such as a demon's. No miracle in his power could reverse the power of an Archangel.

"Az..ziraphale..." the demon spluttered over bubbling black blood on his lips. "Listen...don't...don't stay..."

Aziraphale couldn't breathe. He couldn't drag air to his lungs. He hoped somehow he might die here with Crowley.

"I'm not going anywhere! I'm not leaving you here!" He yelled, tears pouring down his cheeks, voice hysterical as he tried again and again to heal the wound piercing through Crowley's back. "I-I-I can't...why...why can't I do anything?! Crowley, please...oh _god_, please don't leave me here..."

"Go...please, Aziraphale...I...I love you, y'know? I-Isn't that...isn't that stupid of me? A demon...lovin' an angel..." He rasped a laugh, before continuing: "Please...please don't die here too...not here...go t'...go t'the place I built..." the demon stuttered, breath growing ragged and strained. "Go..."

"I-I love you too! I love you too, I love you too, I-I should have told you!" Aziraphale rambled, pawing at Crowley's shoulders and then at his face. "S-s-so go with me! Don't you dare die here Crowley, don't leave me here! I can't...I can't be without you..."

He wasn't sure when Crowley's last breath sounded. He wasn't sure if the demon had even heard him say he loved him back.

Aziraphale could not say how much time passed. Glossy, unfocused eyes merely locked on Crowley's fallen form in his arms, unable to break away. He remembered nothing of why he loved him...only that he did. He remembered that. He remembered Crowley's name.

Everything else had died with the demon in his arms.


End file.
